“Of course, I did,” Arjuna answered without pause or consideration. “He is Firym blood,” he added, as if that settled the matter entirely.
“I hope Valor still kicks his ass though. He earned it with that drama and I had plans to kill Kithkanon. I consider this theft,” one of the Firym guards muttered from under his helm. Reaching up he pulled it off and winked at Jala. “I’ve seen you looking better Waif,” Havoc said with a smile.
“What are you doing in the Justicar’s hall?” she gasped. This was the last place she had expected to see a Fionaveir.
“In the event that things go poorly tomorrow, you will be leaving with me,” he said with a wink. “I’m but a lowly guard today. I will be standing right over there in the corner all night to ensure no one troubles you,” Havoc said, indicating his chosen corner with a hand. Cocking his head toward the other guard, he grinned wider. “And Vic will be standing in the other corner. He isn’t talking right now. Firym don’t have the girly accent that he does so he can’t pretend to be tough like me while talking.”
“It’s not a girly accent,” Victory protested, his voice muffled by the helm but the musical Fae accent was still clearly audible.
“See, he doesn’t sound Firym at all,” Havoc said to her with another grin. “Just look how many friends you have now Curly. It’s nothing like it was when you first left the temple.” His voice was reassuring as he regarded the crowded room.
“Havoc, put your helm back on, shut up, and get in the corner. None of my guards behave in such a manner,” Arjuna snapped and then looked to her. “Neph, Zachary, and I will be leaving now to ensure the council is tomorrow. You should be safe enough here tonight with your “guards” and Jail. I would expect a visit from Finn as well if they allow him upstairs.” Nodding to her, he turned to leave the room with Zachary and Neph close behind.
“This will be fixed tomorrow, Jala. Just remember the appearance of power,” Neph said as he closed the door behind them.
“You do have a lot of strength on your side,” Jail said quietly, his eyes moving from the door to her face.
“I think I’m going to need it all,” Jala replied with a slight frown.
Chapter 11
Avanti
Long tables lined with food covered the sunlit room. Truce regarded them absently as he moved to stand by a window. From the amount of food present, his father expected quite a few guests. A flicker of movement across the room caught his eye and he looked up to watch Sovaesh approach. The red-haired man was as silent as usual, his long grey coat making the only sound as it brushed against the back of his boots. His dark green eyes met Truce’s as he drew closer and it seemed to him that they held anger. It was hard to judge Sovaesh’s expressions, though, due to the half mask that seemed to always cover the Assassin’s lower face. He couldn’t blame the man for being angry if he was. Cassia had practically started a war with his son, and even he was getting sick of it.
“Sovaesh,” Truce said in greeting as the man stopped beside him.
“Truce.” The Assassin returned the greeting. As usual, he didn’t bother with titles. Sovaesh was almost always impudent when speaking with anyone but High Lord Avanti.
“What can I do for you for you?” Truce asked cautiously, wondering why Sovaesh had sought him out. His father-in-law had barely spared ten words for him since his wedding three years ago.
“I’d like a private word with you before the meeting,” Sovaesh replied his voice barely a whisper.
“That doesn’t give us much time to speak,” Truce pointed out, his gaze flicking to the clock on the mantle. “Perhaps ten minutes,” he said his eyes going back to Sovaesh.
“More than enough time,” Sovaesh said and nodded in the direction of the garden door. “Outside though,” he said and began moving before Truce could even respond.
With a last look toward the over-laden tables, Truce sighed and followed after the man at a leisurely pace. He couldn’t help but be curious at this meeting but he was cautious as well.
He caught up with the Assassin at the bottom of the stairs standing near a trellis of climbing red roses. The air was thick with the fragrance and Truce inhaled deeply. Wordlessly, Sovaesh began walking again. His steps guided them past the lush flower beds and he seemed to be heading toward the small brook that ran through the center of the gardens. Truce followed behind silently, eyes roving over the bright colored flowers to the perfectly trimmed grass. I wonder how many gardeners we actually have, he mused as he noted the pristine condition of the grounds. Not a leaf was out of place and not a weed could be seen.
“I want to know where you stand on the current events,” Sovaesh said quietly, pausing by a small waterfall.
Truce pursed his lips and dropped lightly onto a bench beside the brook and shrugged. “Personally, I had planned to try to talk my father out of it. I doubt I will have much success however,” he said, keeping his voice low. It wasn’t a good sign that Sovaesh was showing interest in politics. That would make his father nervous.
“What would you do if you were in charge?” Sovaesh asked, one slender brown eyebrow raised in question.
Truce regarded the man carefully, reminding himself that Sovaesh was his father-in-law and if he didn’t choose his words very carefully, he would have either his wife or his father coming down on him. “I would not go to war. There is no profit in war,” he answered carefully.
“And what of my daughter-in-law? Would you still wish to see her dead? Or Finn, for that matter?” he asked his voice level.
“I believe Cassia is acting in excess,” Truce answered vaguely and shifted slightly as the Assassin’s eyes narrowed. “No, I see no point in killing either of them. I like Finn,” he clarified. “Sovaesh, you aren’t actually planning on killing my father are you?” he asked. The question was a bold one but one he would greatly like the answer to.